


the morning after you

by dustofwarfare



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Dream Sex, During Canon, Gunplay, Kinktober, M/M, Metaverse (Persona 5), consensual but fucked up, gunplay fantasy, hate as foreplay, in-game fic, iwai does not approve of his guns being used like this boys, sae niijima palace, snuff fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: “Bad dreams?” Joker asks.“Dreams, yes,” says Crow. “But I wouldn’t say they were bad.” His eyes flicker for a moment to Joker’s gun, still held at his side. There’s a weird little smile on his face when he meets Joker’s eyes.Like maybe they share a secret.Maybe they do.-------In which Joker dreams about Crow. And also, guns.





	the morning after you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to mxTicketyBoo for reading this over! Title from Meg Myers' song "The Morning After."   
I started this quite some time ago but wasn't ever sure where it was going -- I thought it best to put an ending on it and share for kinktober and the gunplay. 
> 
> Set during Sae's palace/November.

It is a very good thing, Joker thinks, that there are so many safe rooms in Sae’s palace. 

The fight went poorly right off the bat, with Noir knocked down and Queen rushing to attend to her, Oracle shouting at Fox not to use physical attacks the second Fox leaped forward with his katana brandished -- only for the shadow to reflect it back and neatly take Fox out for good. 

Joker’s not real sure what happened, but it was bad and they’d had to enact a strategic retreat. It’s probably because they’ve been in here for hours, fighting and trying to get the required amount of coins to gain access to the so-called High Roller Floor. 

They’d gotten a little careless and should head back to a safe room to rest up. Joker is never sure how time passes in palaces in relation to the real world, because somehow he’s always home by evening when they head out. But there’s an extra stressor in this palace, and it’s not just the part where the palace belongs to Queen’s older sister. 

It’s also the part where one of his teammates is planning to kill him. 

Said teammate is also the one who ends up in the safe room with him. Joker catches his breath, exhausted in that peculiar way that happens in the metaverse -- you feel it, just like you feel pain, but it’s dream-muted and warped, like listening to your favorite song underwater. You know all the words but the tune itself is distorted, wrong. 

“That was unpleasant,” says Crow. His uniform is ridiculous; Oracle likened it to a high school marching band who couldn’t find his bus in the Destinyland parking lot. The mask reminds Joker of the plague doctors he read about in history class. Both metaphors are oddly apt. Crow is bombastic and theatrical, and thinks himself safe from danger. 

“Yeah.” Joker nods in assent to Crow’s statement. He’s not terribly worried that Crow will try anything here, but you never know. Joker never bought Goro Akechi’s television-ready smile and earnest boy detective act, but he never would have thought him capable of cold-blooded  _ murder.  _

Then again, Crow sure didn’t have any problems dispatching Shadows. All of the Thieves -- Joker included -- faltered a time or two at first. It wasn’t easy to kill something that could talk, even if it was hurling fire at your face. But Crow took to it easily enough, wielding his laser saber without hesitation. That alone should have tipped them off that Crow’s been visiting the metaverse longer than a month, even more than hearing Morgana’s voice back in the real world. 

Having caught his breath, Joker straightens and walks over to Crow, studying him. The battle has lit him up, and the crimson of his mask makes his eyes shine like fresh blood. 

Joker’s fingers twitch in his gloves. He wants to reach out and snatch that mask off Crow’s face, just like he does any other Shadow. He wants to demand Crow show his true form, or maybe -- since they  _ are  _ in a casino -- demand Crow show his hand. 

Most of all, Joker wants to know  _ why _ . Why Crow is planning to kill him, why Crow is causing mental shutdowns...who  _ is  _ he? Joker always knew the detective prince was a lie. But the truth is that Goro Akechi’s final form has yet to be revealed, and as much as Joker wants it over with, it’s not time for the boss battle. 

There is a shocking exhilaration in it, facing his would-be murderer. 

Crow thinks he’s so smart. 

“Usually I only see you smile like that when we win,” Crow says, catching Joker’s sudden grin. He pushes his mask up, and his messy hair is sticking to his face, damp with sweat. He looks so normal, a young man with eyes that look red in the right light, long fingers curled around the edge of his mask. 

“We lived,” Joker says. He moves a little closer. “Sometimes that’s all it takes to win.” 

For the first time, Joker sees something in Crow that isn’t pleasantries or smooth-glass emptiness. Some hint of who he is. Unlike the faceless guards patrolling Sae-san’s casino, Crow wears his shadows on the inside. Something is off about his smile. 

“I guess so,” Crow says, and his voice is different, too. Cracked around the edges. 

_ This isn’t Crow. It isn’t Akechi-kun. It’s Goro, whoever he is. Unmasked.  _

“Joker,” he says, and tilts his head. “Are you thinking about heading out?” 

It occurs to Joker that Crow is leaning against the door, and Joker is standing close -- too close -- thinking about life and death, murder and Shadows and winning. He thinks about Hifumi, studying the shogi board, yelling about dragons and hellfire. 

“Joker?” 

Joker blinks. He steps back and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go find the others.” 

\---

That night Akira has a dream. 

In it, Joker backs Crow up against the door of the safe room. He puts his hands in their red gloves around Crow’s throat. Crow’s eyes gleam red like a shadow’s; pupiless, endless. 

“I know you’re going to try and kill me,” Joker says. “It’s not going to work.” 

Crow doesn’t even look scared. He tilts his chin up, giving Joker’s hand more room on his throat. He smiles that same cracked smile, only wider. His eyes turn black as pitch, black as a shadow, black as his heart. “We’ll see.” 

Joker kisses him. His mouth tastes like cinders. 

Akira wakes up with a start. His cock is hard and aching, but Morgana is sleeping curled up next to him. He could, he supposes, do what he always does when he needs to take care of certain personal needs and slink off to the bathroom, but he’s not sure he wants to get off thinking about Akechi. 

Besides. Akira’s not sure what exactly got him so worked up -- the thought of kissing Akechi, foiling his murder plan… or killing him. 

Maybe it’s best not to know.

\----

Akechi is sitting at the counter when Akira gets back from his job at the convenience store. They’re going to need some more supplies before their next palace infiltration, and Akira doesn’t mind losing himself in the mundane world for a bit after prolonged time in the metaverse.

And the girl that works there is always nice to him and gives him free snacks, so there’s that. 

Akechi’s eyes widen and Akira tries not to blanche -- as goofy as he thinks Crow’s metaverse outfit is, Akira’s 777 employee outfit is about a thousand times worse. The color is just atrocious. 

(Morgana, with his usual lack of tact, had taken one look at him and told him he looked like a package of strawberry Pocky sticks.)

“You look like a package of strawberry Pocky sticks,” says Akechi. He has that same off-kilter smile he did in the safe room, the one Akira dreamed about last night. 

“That’s what  _ I  _ said,” Morgana mutters, from Akira’s bag. “Let me out, I can smell curry and that means Boss maybe left some meat in my bowl.” 

Sojiro is the only one who leaves Morgana food in the bowl, and it’s always scraps of whatever protein he puts in the curry. Akira tried putting actual cat food in the bowl once, and Morgana was so offended he sat on the manga Akira was trying to read and wouldn’t move until Akira apologized. 

(Akira, who knew better than to try and pick Morgana up and move him, apologized.) 

The cat wriggles out of Akira’s bag and hops down, making his way to the back stealthily so none of the customers see. 

Akira shrugs. “We can’t all work as famous boy detectives.” 

Akechi’s smirk shifts into a scowl. “I’m eighteen, you know.” 

_ Great, they’ll try you as an adult for my murder.  _ The thought makes Akira uncomfortable but he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s just an involuntary response whenever he thinks about the police. Or how Akechi is planning to murder him. “Sorry. Young Adult Detective?” 

“I love the polka dots,” Akechi says, sipping his coffee and ignoring Akira’s dig. He’s got his placid sweet smile on, the one Akira has never believed even  _ before  _ he knew Akechi wanted him dead. 

“Thanks.” Akira crosses his arms over his chest. “Is there something you wanted?” 

“Coffee,” Akechi says, lifting his cup. “And to say hello.” His eyes go from Akira’s lurid uniform to the Sayuri hanging on the wall. “I imagine Kitagawa-kun would be horrified to see you standing so close to that painting, wearing that.” 

“Probably,” Akira says, and smiles despite himself. “You could take a picture and text it to the group chat. See what he says.”  _ Go on, Akechi-kun. Pretend you’re our friend, pretend you’re not going to betray us.  _

“I should,” Akechi says, but he doesn’t. “Anyway, I should be getting home.” He puts the mug and some yen down on the counter. On his way out, he stops so he’s standing as close to Akira as Akira was, yesterday, in the metaverse. “I should tell you,” he says, in a voice that sounds nothing like the one he uses on television. “I like your other outfit better.” 

“You should see the one I wear at the Beef Bowl Shop,” Akira says.

Akechi snorts, an inelegant but honest sound. “How many part time jobs do you have?” 

“Enough,” Akira says, not moving. They’re standing so close together. Akechi wears some kind of cologne that never translates to the metaverse. Or maybe it does and Akira just never noticed. 

Their eyes meet, and then Akechi reverts to form and gives him a little wave, jaunty and insincere. “Until next time!” 

Akira nods. “Until next time.” 

\------

Next time is another dream, and this time, Joker puts a gun next to Crow’s head and makes him get on his knees. They’re in some corner in the casino, half-hidden by a wall and a potted plant. 

Joker traces the barrel over Crow’s jaw, the graceful curve of his throat. Crow’s smile turns sly and his mouth opens, and Joker slowly, slowly, presses the barrel inside past Crow’s parted lips. His redwine eyes stare up at Joker, bright and hateful. 

Joker pushes the gun in, draws it out, pushes it back in. It’s not subtle. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asks, tilting his head. 

Crow makes a derisive sound and starts sucking on the barrel. He makes it showy, tongue flicking and curling around the metal. 

“I could kill you,” Joker says, sliding the gun in farther. They’re in the metaverse. This isn’t just one of Iwai-san’s collectibles, not here. He could press the barrel against the back of Crow’s throat, listen to him choke and pull the trigger. That would be the end of it. 

Crow reaches up, curls his gloved fingers around Joker’s wrist. Helps him slide the gun in deep 

_ Do it,  _ his eyes say. 

Joker puts his finger on the trigger. 

Crow moans. 

Akira wakes up, slides out of bed and half-stumbles down the steps to the bathroom. He shoves his hand down his pajama pants and doesn’t even think about how fucked-up it is that he’s getting off on the idea of fucking someone’s mouth with a gun. Of pulling the trigger. Of  _ killing  _ someone. 

It doesn’t seem to matter all that much that Akechi wants to kill him. In some sick way, it makes it better. 

\------

“I wish I could see what kind of parents raised you to run loose and wreak havoc like this,” the Rangda huffs. 

Joker stares at it down the barrel of his gun, and then -- 

“Oh, sorry I’m so  _ boring. _ ” The Rangda is glaring now at Crow, who is standing next to Joker with his own gun drawn. 

“Great job,  _ yawn  _ at the enemies, Crow, that’s  _ sooo  _ threatening,” Oracle snarks. “We’re trying to negotiate! You might as well just kill them.” 

Joker sighs. He already has this shadow’s mask, so he gives the signal and the dancing witches fall to the Thieves and their bullets. When it’s over, he turns to Crow. 

“Did you really just yawn?” 

“Sorry,” Crow says, sheepishly. “I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well.” 

“Bad dreams?” Joker asks. 

“Dreams, yes,” says Crow. “But I wouldn’t say they were bad.” His eyes flicker for a moment to Joker’s gun, still held at his side. There’s a weird little smile on his face when he meets Joker’s eyes. 

Like maybe they share a secret. 

Maybe they do. 

\-----

When Akechi kills him, Akira’s nowhere near it. 

But he thinks about it, later, when they finally bring him back to Leblanc’s. He’s alone in his bed, Morgana asleep on his chest and purring. Every now and then, his claws flex and knead like he’s trying to make sure Akira’s still there. Akira pets him absently, able to get away with it only because Morgana’s asleep and they had a closer brush with death than usual. 

He’s tired but he can’t sleep; Akira keeps thinking about it, what it must have looked like. What  _ Akechi  _ must have looked like with the gun pointed at him. That same weird little smile on his face from Sae’s palace. 

_ Dreams, yes. But I wouldn’t say they were bad.  _

Akira wonders what secrets Akechi gave up, before he gave Akira that killshot between the eyes. It’s what he would have done, Akira knows, because that’s how Crow kills shadows. Merciless, efficient, remorseless. But surely he would have gloated at least a  _ little _ , first. It’s almost impossible to imagine Akechi not taking the chance to feel superior, to flaunt his victory. 

Even though it’s safer, Akira has a wild desire to get up and go find Akechi -- right now, in the quiet, in the dark. Sit on the edge of his bed like a ghost. Ask him why he did it. Ask him if he regrets it. 

_ He’d only regret that he failed. He’d shoot you again for real.  _

Akira falls asleep a few hours before dawn. He doesn’t dream. 

**Author's Note:**

> Someone tell me if we as a fandom capitalize metaverse or not???


End file.
